From the Dead
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day 1624b: After the strange sighting Brittany had following her first show, a talk with Winger brings up an even stranger discovery. - Trinity series (follows the events of "Take a Look" chapter 3)


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 77th cycle. Now cycle 78!_

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**"From the Dead"  
((Older) Quinn,) Santana/Brittany, Winger/Catalina (OC)  
Trinity series  
_(all series now listed under the communities tab in my profile)_  
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The months leading up to this moment had gone by so fast, between life at home, with Santana and their daughter, and at the studio, preparing the show. That was what Brittany should have been thinking about as she stepped off the stage that night, having received the appreciation and applause of the audience. But it wasn't.

She knew it was an illusion, had to be, because the woman was dead, had been for over a year now, but she could have sworn she'd seen a redheaded Quinn, somewhere in that audience. They had not been Trinity for a while now, but it was still in her to be as observant as possible, and especially to keep an eye out for her partners, to protect them. And she'd seen her, her lost friend, lost sister, she knew… Santana had told her it was a trick of her eye. Since then, she'd been doing all she could to make herself believe it.

"You were amazing out there," Winger had an awestruck look on his face as he and Catalina had come to join her and Santana and Florence. Catalina had picked up her niece on reflex. "Could you really always do that? I had no idea…"

"Yes, well, people are full of mysteries," Santana gave her a look, and Winger stood up tall. She still spooked him the majority of the time, and Santana did not shy away from taking advantage of that.

"Thanks, Winger," Brittany replied, though she was clearly distracted.

"Are you okay?" he blinked, confused as to why she would look this way.

"I'm fine, I…"

"Okay, did you just… you did, yup," Catalina frowned, catching a whiff of the little girl in her arms. "She needs changing," she started toward the nearest restroom.

"Tali, I've got the bag!" Santana called after her, but then sighed and ran off after her sister, leaving her wife and the tall one on their own.

"Do you think it's crazy to see dead people?" Brittany asked, and Winger turned to her, frowning.

"Like… ghosts in sheets?"

"Not exactly, I just…" she sighed, still looking around. "I thought I saw someone, but I couldn't have, I know, I do…"

"Brittany?" he tried to catch her eye again. She looked one way and then the other, knowing full well she wasn't in a completely secure location and, even though what they were talking about wasn't exactly the danger they had to worry about, she had grown used to handling things with caution.

"I thought I saw Quinn, in the audience." She expected him to look at her like she was crazy, or to give her that 'you poor thing, you're so sad' face. Instead, Winger had what Santana had taken to calling 'Winger face.' It was the kind of expression their friend and former associate got whenever he was terrified of having to speak with them, because he didn't want to say the wrong thing. "I know it's crazy."

"It's not… It's not crazy," he insisted. "She was your friend… You miss her…" He might as well have been walking a tightrope.

It had been a few months now, since the night he had gotten that call from Spencer. They hadn't spoken since, one way or another, and he worried. He knew something had to have been happening over where they were, something big, or else he wouldn't have called him at home. It was always easier to call him at work, the lines were more secure… But that wasn't the point. The point was there was something making him want to know if they could come home, and he didn't know this for sure, but Winger was almost positive Brittany had not made this up.

He'd been terrified of slipping up, and he'd nearly done it, too. He was lucky it had been just the two of them. If Santana had been there, too, she would have ripped the truth right out of him without breaking a sweat. But as it was, the subject had been dropped. As far as he knew, it was all over.

Then a week later, for the first time in over a year, two thirds of Trinity walked into his shop. As soon as he saw the look on Santana's face, he felt his sweat glands go into overdrive.

"Well, this is a surprise. You two are not going back into the business, are you, because I thought for sure…"

"Alright, spill," Santana told him, and he nearly did spill something alright.

"I don't…" he hesitated.

"You're not thinking of proposing to my sister, are you?" It came right out of left field, and for a moment he was relieved. They weren't here for the reasons he'd thought, he was okay… But then he processed what they did think, and it was panic city all over again.

"Prop… Me… Wait, is that a bad thing?" he had to find out this much before he dared to open his trap again. Santana shrugged.

"Honestly, if you'd asked me that a couple years ago I would have ripped you not just a new one but a baker's dozen." Winger gulped and wondered how on Earth his legs were still supporting him. "But what can I say, I guess you've grown on me, so if you did marry her, maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

"Oh… Well… good…" He grew silent, and he realized too soon that was his mistake.

"Hold on," Santana stared at him. "That wasn't it, was it?" He reached for words; his throat was dry. This was bad, he had to get them out of there, or they might… "So what was the big deal, you freaked her out, she thought there was something wrong with you," she went on, pointing to Brittany.

"Wrong with m…"

The phone rang on his desk. He didn't dare move. It rang again.

"Do you want me to get that?" Brittany pointed. He hadn't even heard it, too busy searching his head for a way out. When he did hear it, it was as though he'd only been up to his knees into quicksand; now he was up to his ears. He had ring tones for everything, that was how he could keep track of who was calling, what protocols to keep. He knew exactly what he would hear on the other end of that line, but could he really manage to keep a straight face while those two were there?

Then something worse happened. He had taken too long, and there was a click, followed by a voice, only a few words before he managed to spring on to the pad and silence it.

"_I'll call back later, just thought you should know…"_

It had been enough. When he got his head to turn back and let his eyes fall on the two women, the astonished looks on their faces said it all. They had recognized that voice like it was calling from the other side, the voice of Spencer Lowry.

THE END

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_****A/N: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
****In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
********always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!********_


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